


a palette of progenitor blues

by justlikeswitchblades



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Parenthood, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:08:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24380335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikeswitchblades/pseuds/justlikeswitchblades
Summary: He follows her gaze to the tree line and the mountains beyond; he could already recognize their calls, but he still flips down one of the additional lenses on his glasses to better spot the nest, the black of ravens’ feathers somewhat obscured in a mess of branches. He quietly pushes the lens back up and hugs Vex a little tighter; she doesn’t shrug him off, but he can feel a stiff sort of tension in her body, and he carefully steps back, settling into the patio chair opposite her.“The baby wanted to greet Mummy and Daddy earlier,” Percy begins. “He didn’t object to just having Daddy as company, though he is becoming more and more articulate lately.”“That’s when you know we need to have another one,” Vex muses, and Percy lifts his teacup in response.“My dear, I’m surprised that another hasn’t come along already.”
Relationships: Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III/Vex'ahlia, Vax'ildan & Vex'ahlia (Critical Role)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 72





	a palette of progenitor blues

**Author's Note:**

> roughly ~five or six years post dalen's closet? rewatching dalen's closet was my reward for finishing this fic though, so it is minimally referenced

The dawn that leaks into the Whitestone master bedroom is a pale shade of blue that doesn’t quite deserve to call itself morning. It’s starting to chip away at the previous dark of night, no doubt, but the sun has yet to break the horizon; it’s the kind of dawn that makes Percy hope he’s still dreaming, his eyelids heavy enough that lifting them takes excruciating effort. There’s only a vague notion of wakeness in his mind; what he feels strongest is a numb sensation, and then spindles of tingling in his right arm after having Vex’ahlia fall asleep atop it. He extracts his arm from underneath her, and it falls like lead upon his chest, but she does not stir. He stumbles to the water closet and back, sinking into bed again, facedown in his pillow, and succumbs to sleep easily once more.

Percy wakes a second time to a brighter room, the sunlight starting to tease at his closed eyes as it filters through the curtains, and he starts to wake up properly this time, a mild ache building in his head along with a memory of opening a newly imported whiskey last night. He tries to distract himself with any responsibilities that come to mind for the day, and part of it may be his brain trying to avoid thinking, but he comes up short--nothing diplomatic for the Council, nothing major happening around the castle. He listens to the slow, quiet, methodic tick of their bedside clock, waiting for the rhythm to lull him back to sleep, but the feeling is slowly replaced with the resignation that he likely will be staying awake. Damn.

Bothered enough to finally lift his head and look at the clock, he squints, and sighs at the hour. It’s early--not too early, though almost any hour is an hour worth disliking upon waking up. The linens rustle quietly as he shifts to spoon Vex’ahlia, slipping his arm around her bare stomach, touching his nose to her cheek.

“Vex,” He murmurs close to her ear, his voice still laced with sleep. “Darling, wake up. Something terrible has happened.” Vex’ahlia groans and stretches, reclining into Percy’s embrace but raising her arms above her head, her knuckles brushing the walnut woodgrain of their headboard, placing a hand to Percy’s bearded cheek before letting her arms fall, tangling their fingers together. 

“What is it, Percival?” Vex asks with a yawn, eyes closed, sarcasm woven into the sleepy sound of her voice. “It sounds dire.”

“Well, my darling, it’s that I’ve woken up at what feels to be a terribly early hour,” Percy explains, humming a kiss into the crook of her neck. “And I’ve tried, but I don’t think I’m going to be falling back asleep.”

“Mm, so you’ve decided to wake me up for company,” Vex comments, a smile flitting at her lips. “I’m not sure if that’s kind of you.”

“I meant to propose a distraction, actually,” Percy suggests. “One you might also benefit from.”

“That’s quite the concept,” Vex flirts hazily, guiding Percy’s hand further down her stomach and between her thighs. “I can’t wait to hear your proposal.”

***

Even on the days when the stress is buzzing loudly in his brain before having had caffeine, Percy tries his best to greet the children in the mornings. Today, one of them has made it easier--Percival the Fourth, his name undoubtedly some joke on Vex’s part as their third child--is waiting outside his parents’ bedroom door. Percy nearly bumps him after getting dressed, his son almost knee-height now but still with his thumb hovering near the corner of his mouth and dark brown hair curling at the back of his neck, dressed in brightly-colored pyjamas and carrying a plush wyvern in hand. Percy dismisses the staff waiting at the end of the hall and scoops him up, noisily and affectionately kissing his giggling boy’s cheeks.

He weaves his way through the upper parts of the castle slowly and procedurally with his son in his arms, checking in on Vesper and the second eldest, but their bedrooms, though brightened by the sun, are empty--likely causing trouble elsewhere together, as they were born less than a year apart. Percy carries his son down to the dinner hall after, piling eggs and meats and fruit and toast high on a plate, and maybe more than one pastry at the insistence of Percival’s pleading eyes, though he manages to withhold them until his son finishes a sufficiently nutritious portion of his meal. Percival had still needed help getting down from his chair despite his loud insistence otherwise, and after nodding a thank you to the nearby staff, Percy had gotten up, his son’s energetic footsteps pattering away. 

He had noticed something curious upon crossing the grounds to one of his workshops; a small line of gold paint scraped away from the more intricate lock on the inner door, but he tucked that concern away after nothing looked to be rifled through. After locking back up, he passed through the dinner hall a second time, filling up a platter with a second plate of food and two cups, one coffee, one tea. He had precariously made his way back upstairs, nudging the bedroom door open with his shoulder and shutting it behind him. He notices his wife is no longer in bed, and, feeling the gentle breeze of the day, looks out to the balcony. 

Vex’ahlia has her back to him, dressed in a muted lacy robe that near matches a hair pin he had given her; turquoise gemstones, arranged in the shape of a feather, paired with a similar feather made of obsidian; his eyes catch the glinting and refracting of jewels in the sun. Her hair is brushed and cascades down her back, but still shows glimpses of her bare back beneath the robe; a dark thong sits at her hips, the robe hitting below the line of a garter mid-thigh. Percy pushes his cheek out with his tongue, taking in the view for a moment longer before walking outside. He sets the platter down on the table they keep on the balcony, and gives Vex’s ass a squeeze, offering her the cup of coffee with his free hand. 

“And breakfast? You’re a saint,” Vex tells him as she takes the coffee, pecking a kiss on his cheek. Percy smiles and wraps his arms around her from behind, burying his face in her hair, inhaling her perfume. 

“Would you like a more opaque covering, my dear?”

“No, you’re doing a perfectly good job,” Vex answers, and Percy laughs, resting his chin on her shoulder. He follows her gaze to the tree line and the mountains beyond; he could already recognize their calls, but he still flips down one of the additional lenses on his glasses to better spot the nest, the black of ravens’ feathers somewhat obscured in a mess of branches. He quietly pushes the lens back up and hugs Vex a little tighter; she doesn’t shrug him off, but he can feel a stiff sort of tension in her body, and he carefully steps back, settling into the patio chair opposite her. 

“The baby wanted to greet Mummy and Daddy earlier,” Percy begins. “He didn’t object to just having Daddy as company; though he is becoming more and more articulate lately.”

“That’s when you know we need to have another one,” Vex muses, and Percy lifts his teacup in response.

“My dear, I’m surprised that another hasn’t come along already.”

“As am I--but him talking, it’s likely due to all the time he insists Daddy spend with him in the library,” Vex continues, hands wrapped around her steaming mug of coffee. Percy catches her smiling, though she’s still looking at the nest. “I’m surprised you haven’t lost him in there.” Percy makes a noncommittal noise before taking a gulp of his tea, and Vex turns to scoff at him. 

“Percy!”

“Socks are not known to make much noise, we found him reading, and he was gone for less than ten minutes,” Percy quickly defends himself, hands raised, and Vex rolls her eyes, shaking her head as she looks back to the trees. She slowly sips her coffee, and then, sets her mug to the side. She lifts a hand to rub at her forehead, her shoulders slumping with a sigh that quakes in her chest, and Percy stands up again, making her way to her at his own pace, pulling her back into his arms. Vex relaxes into his embrace this time, then turns around to face him, kissing him slowly in the morning light. She sniffs quietly when she pulls back, her eyes glassy when she meets Percy’s, and then her gaze drops--not to the ground, but to his chest, like she’s looking through him.

“I know I don’t have to say it. I know he’d give me an earful about it. I know it’s been years, and there are days, and there are weeks where I don’t think about him, even when I see the birds, even when I’m in the temple. But then I remember, and I feel terrible, for having allowed myself to miss him less. It’s not that I’ll ever forget him--that’s probably the one thing that would actually manifest him,” Vex’ahlia laughs, wiping at her eyes. “And I know he’s still with me then, when things are mundane, or I’m busy with you, or the children, or the Council. We obtained the closest thing we could get to closure when we had our proper wedding, but I don’t think I’ll ever stop wanting him back, even though I know I want something I can’t have.” Percy touches his forehead to Vex’ahlia’s silently, giving a moment to her words and the weight of her grief.

“I can’t speak for him, and I won’t claim I’ll ever be able to fully grasp the way you miss him,” Percy begins, smiling sadly as he cups Vex’ahlia’s cheek. “But I know you’re still allowed to miss him, when you’re happy, and when you’re sad. I’m sure he’s proud of you, and I hope he thinks I’m at least doing a passable job at being a husband and father, because I know he would have been an even more tremendous uncle.”

“Percival, I know he’s proud of you,” Vex’ahlia chides him, fixing him with a look and clasping her hand to his. “Don’t you dare.” Percy swallows an apology, a lump of guilt in his throat. She lays her head on his shoulder, standing there quietly with Percy as he holds her. 

“Alright,” Vex’ahlia lifts her head after a moment, and inclines it towards the table, sniffling with a smile. “He did tell me to live, so I suppose I won’t let my breakfast get too cold.”

“Now that’s the proper way to act rich, supplementing your emotional needs with material ones,” Percy smiles back, Vex lightly swatting at his shoulder as he sits down in the chair closest to them. She cuddles in his lap, unbuttoning the next button on his shirt before grabbing a plate and fork; he stretches for her coffee mug, holding it in his hand, the other resting on her thigh.

“Speaking of Uncle Vax, someone was trying to get into Daddy’s workshop recently,” Percy comments, irritation creasing his brow. “The lock I had placed on the door--the complicated one, the one I designed to try to keep people of his caliber out--was scratched up. Just a little bit, still latched, but enough for me to notice.” Vex lifts an eyebrow, making a noise in her throat before swallowing her bite of food.

“What makes you think it wasn’t one of the staff, or the guards you keep on watch?”

“We vet them, we pay them handsomely--plus, there’s nothing much of value in there. Wood, metals, glass--my plans are probably the only thing worth stealing in there, but those are under a magical lock, if anyone ever managed to get in. Has to be one of the kids, and it’s probably not the toddler.”

“Well--what’s the harm in letting the children in your workshop? You don’t keep your guns in there anymore.”

“It’s still dangerous!” Percy exclaims, lifting his hand from Vex’s thigh momentarily. “There’s machinery in there, there’s sharp objects, there’s--” Vex puts her plate aside and extracts the mug of coffee from Percy’s fingers, sipping as he rattles off his list. 

“Percival,” She interjects, when he seems to have reached a pause. “Why don’t you want one of the children to apprentice under you?”

“I didn’t say--” Vex’ahlia lifts an eyebrow, locking eyes with him, and Percy exhales a little shakily.

“I am just a clockmaker now. An artisan. A carpenter. And with your brains, and mine, I know our children are incredibly bright. If one of them wants to study under me, or with someone like me--they may think of things I’ve never dreamt of. They could be brilliant,” Percy laughs, his eyes sparkling, voice almost choked with the depth of his enthusiasm, though his smile fades as he goes quiet. “But that means they could think of weapons too, Vex; far worse than the ones that I’ve had to make. I don’t--I wouldn’t be able to bear that, if that were the case.” Vex studies Percy for a moment. She leans in and kisses him tenderly, before settling back into his arms.

“You had reason to build your weapons, darling--and you know they’re used to defend, and not just hurt, too. There’s a clocktower you’ve been working on, in the center of town, that we take the children to visit in the summers, or during Winter’s Crest, that tells the whole story of Vox Machina.” She reasons, smiling at the name. “Now, I’m not saying they have to go off and be adventurers, or put themselves in danger like we did. But they may want to go to Emon, or Vasselheim, or Zephrah someday. If they want to keep to themselves at Whitestone when they come of age, they are welcome to, but I will still be alive for a good century after your passing, Percy, and I will not be luxuriating in a castle full of pretentious brats, even if they’re our brats. Understand?”

“We will not allow our children to go through what we had to become good people,” Vex adds softly. “But we will do our best to keep them humble. If one of them wants to learn a trade from you, or just wants to watch you work? I want that. For them, and for us.”

“I think the eldest are still a little young for it,” Percy finally relents, pushing a hand through his hair. “But I suppose one day wouldn’t cause too much harm.”

“Good, because one of them may want to emulate Mummy someday and join the Grey Hunt, and that’s far more dangerous,” Vex smirks, tracing his ear. “Would the Lord of Whitestone allow that?”

“I don’t think the Lady would allow the Lord to object,” Percy closes his eyes with a knowing smile. “The worst we have to worry about is the risk of one of them ending up like Scanlan.”

“Hush, you know he’s better now; what keeps me up is the thought of one of them wanting to emulate Tary,” Vex trades barbs in kind. “But let’s not talk about them,” She says, shifting to drape her arms around his neck. Vex tastes like black coffee and bacon and strawberry jam, bitter and savory and sweet all mixing together as their kisses deepen, Percy moving one hand further up her thigh, Vex guiding his other hand to her chest. He pauses to take a breath, and then pulls back a little more intentionally, his breathing a little more harsh than before.

“Wait a minute--would you _remarry?_ ” Vex purses her lips, avoiding his gaze as she slowly twirls a lock of hair around her finger.

“I love you, darling, but you know I have certain needs…” Percy starts to protest, though Vex cuts him off with a kiss.

“I’m kidding! There are plenty of other options--a lich, a clone...I still have plenty more decades to figure it out,” Vex teases, before looking at him with half-lidded eyes. “Now, do you have anything important to do today?”

“Other than what’s in front of me?” Percy prompts, glancing at Vex’ahlia’s chest. “Not particularly.”

“Well, one certainly takes priority, but all this talk about your workshop makes me think about the arrows you used to make me…” Vex pouts, dragging a finger along the fly of his trousers. “I’m feeling a little left out.”

“I--I believe I said I wouldn’t make any more weapons for myself, and the munitions are kept in a separate workshop, just in case,” Percy gulps, though he can’t help a grin as Vex’ahlia continues to look at him attentively, her robe falling around her shoulders. “You may have found a loophole, darling. Shall we discuss more later?”

**Author's Note:**

> (my secret is that i've only watched two episodes of vox machina, and three additional hours of perc'ahlia supercuts to research for this fic lol)


End file.
